Monthly Archives: May 2011

The swamp cooler was what I did all of yesterday. Today I got home from work to find my mother and brother all hot to fix the slightly leaky upstairs toilet. Four hours and two trips to the store later, we’ve got it fixed (knock on wood, the shutoff valve was severely lacking in the “OFF” department, but it seems fine right now).

This was what was for breakfast yesterday, and leftovers this morning.

Basically, it’s all the makings of french toast, by instead of frying them on a skillet, you cut them up into chunks and put them in a baking pan. Bread and cream cheese chunks in the pan, pour in your batter (milk and eggs and cinnamon and vanilla) and a bunch of blueberries on top. As it bakes, make some blueberry syrup (water, sugar, cornstarch and blueberries, and maybe some lemon juice). When it comes out, pour on the syrup and eat it.

After Russia bombed and invaded in 1957, Las Vegas is the last bastion of freedom. When Elvis, the king of renamed Lost Vegas, dies, every rock-n-roller out there starts to cross the wasteland, vying to be the new king. There, that gave you the basic premise. What about the movie itself?

It is awesome. Even though it’s a low-budget thing, everything came out impressively well. The guy who played the main character (a Buddy Holly look-alike) is a real martial artist, so the fights felt more authentic than you usually get from something like this, and the rest of the movie just goes to show what can be accomplished with a judicious level of grunge and the proper application of slow motion.

If you like post-apocalyptic things, ridiculous characters, Rock and Roll, kung-fu movies, Communist armies, and/or nice shoes, you will be entertained by this movie. I mean, when you have a character named “Death,” who looks like Slash and, upon finding the broken bodies of a Commie army says, “Only one man can kill this many Russians. Bring his guitar to me,” how can you go wrong?

Now, I think I need to go and make sure my truck has a ratchet in it. Just in case.

After such a nice morning, the dust storm that’s blown in now is pretty crummy. Can’t open any windows, it got up to almost 90 this afternoon, and we don’t have the swamp cooler hooked up yet (it’s on the list for tomorrow). Didn’t stop us from going down to my grandparents’ for homemade ice cream and going out to the cemetery to see dad’s headstone.

Everyone’s got a hidden agenda watch them push it on youEveryone’s got a hidden agenda don’t pretend not toIt’s a battle for your mind and a battle for your pocket bookThey’ll play on your emotions until your heart is hookedReel them in tell them what’s your intentNo Mr. salesman you don’t have my confidenceSee I’m not sure if I can trust your heartSo don’t feed me your lies disguised in sheep guardEveryone’s got an agenda can you tell me what forEveryone’s got an agenda can you tell me what’s yoursFrom the liberal media to the conservative coreFrom politics to the dude trying to play it cool on the dance floorIts human nature runs deep and reeks of secretsNo matter how hard you try no man can keep itFor a time maybe but one day you’re gonna have to face itAnd when that time comes you won’t be able to fake it

Left yourself lying in the dark waiting to be exposedCatch yourself hiding from your heart and what God only knowsSmile put on your game faceYour death bed awaitsAnd sure there’s grace but it’s going to sting a bitTry to sell it to God and see if he buys your sales pitch

Watch them tell you they’re more than their worthWatch them take advantage of the churchBut then again stepping stones were meant to be walked onThey’ll leave and come back once the floor boards are goneAnd they’re sitting in the basement pondering energy wastedTrying to figure out how to make itTake it to the innocent and manipulate itJob well done religion look what you’ve createdEasily slipping easily fading awayEasily forgetting why it was that I was madeEasily saying all the right things I need to say in order to make it easier for myself to get paidDon’t look at it like this moments of trite blissThis propaganda is lifelessMove at the speed of which light isFast forward through the time as I write thisNow I might not have been the wisestBut I put my soul into each line if money ain’t the motive it’s pricelessI followed a trend called timeless

These folks don’t walk it but they go about it and they talk itNow-a-day’s they’ll turn anything into productMerchandise name your price try and turn a profitEven the sacred’s been turned dishonest

Or, as the Dread Pirate Roberts said: “Life is pain, princess. Anyone who tells you different is selling something.”

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Silly spammers. First off, only $262? I’m insulted! Second off, “translaction”? What, exactly, is a “translaction”? Third, and probably most damning of all, is the fact that I’m not a client of Chase Bank. I award you an F–. But as we always said in school, “F for effort!”

Or chicken down. Something somehow got one of the little chickens out from under the Chicken Tractor last night. I’m guessing a cat, since it took the carcass to out yard and ate it there, leaving the guts and feathers for us to pick up, just like a cat does. Needless to say, if I catch a cat in the live trap (now with new and improved bloody feather bait), it won’t get saved just ’cause it’s cute. Raccoon, cat, little burrowing owl, or man from Mars, I will no longer have any mercy on what’s in my trap.

They couldn’t even have taken the aggressive one that’s probably a rooster and keeps picking feathers out of everyone else. Damn predators.